Just a Rainstorm
by michaelkun
Summary: Kenny McCormick was a homeless teenager, living on the cold streets of South Park, Colorado. On a normal, sunny day, what could be his savior comes by and taps his shoulder... K2  *abuse throughout **on hiatus ; ;
1. Chapter 1

Kenny McCormick had no life.

Honestly. His family had never cared for him, so he didn't have a place to live. He was skinny, due to malnutrition, and no one ever talked to him at school. He was labeled as the dirty, orange-parka'd kid that carried his books in his arms. Nothing more, sometimes less.

In other words, he was waiting to die.

Kenny strolled the chilly streets of South Park, to get back to his "home". He was kicked out of his house at the young age of 9, since that's when he discovered his true sexuality. Kenny was bisexual, and his strict Catholic parents wanted nothing to do with him. Ever since, he drifted along, practically praying for a savior.

That night, as many others, he didn't find someone.

Kenny was in the alleyway near the edge of town that was pretty much his home now. There was a canopy to cover his head, something he made for himself when he was just 11. A few tattered blankets were underneath, but they could never fight the cold he felt daily. Either way, he still covered his body with the torn rags, and fell into yet another dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, drips of rain woke the 15 year old, at too early of a liking. Kenny pulled one of the blankets over his face to prevent more water from beating down. A raging storm was through his small town, and nowhere was dry, except for inside walls. Kenny sighed as he stood, knowing he was just going to have to tough this one out too. Surprisingly, this wasn't the worse he's endured. There had been many a snow storm where he was thoroughly convinced he would freeze to death.<p>

Kenny walked the long walk to his high school, appropriately named South Park High School. By the time he got there, the first bus had pulled up, dropping off about 40 kids or so. He sighed, as he saw they all had warm, fluffy jackets and umbrellas. He only had his old orange parka, which was nice, but he would kill for a new one. One preferably that actually fought the cold.

He was thrilled to walk inside for the warmth, but it soon decreased as kids started pushing past him, making rude remarks as they did so. A single tear escaped Kenny's eye, but none others did, since he told himself to man up. He went on with his school day, just trying to go unnoticed. Thankfully, it worked. Sadly, he still had no friends. All Kenny wanted was the happy balance, the one that all the other kids seemed to have. Instead, he had wet rags to return "home" to.

Kenny got out of the building to reveal a beautiful day. The sun poured out of the crystal blue sky and most of the water was already soaked up. A few marshmallow clouds were floating along the sky, as if there was never a storm. He smiled, and went home to hang his rags and hopefully score some cash so he could get a meal.

As he walked back to his alleyway, two guys came up to him, and Kenny instantly flinched with fear. It was none other than Stan Marsh and Eric Cartman; the two biggest douches in all of Colorado. Both of them were seniors, and they loved nothing more than torturing sophomores. They picked on Kenny any chance they got, and now, they had one.

"Oh look! It's Kenny!" Eric exclaimed, his nasally voice echoing down the street. He picked Kenny up from his collar and Kenny immediately started to squirm, trying to get free. All his books fell to the ground, scattering beneath his hanging feet. Kenny's mind was clouded with none other than pure and complete fear. These two have had quite a history with the sophomore, and he knew it could go from bad to worse in an instant.

"Please guys, please!" Kenny begged, his eyes shone with tears that threatened to fall. Both boys laughed in response to his begs, as Stan promptly punched his stomach. Some of the tears fell from Kenny's eyes with the contact, which make the guys smile. After a few more punches and the occasional kick, Eric finally let him go. Kenny fell to the cement with a thud, as he tried to regain his breathing pattern. Eric and Stan ran off in hysterics as Kenny tried crawling back to the alleyway.

After what felt like hours, Kenny finally picked himself off of the blacktop. The few books and papers he had were reorganized in a matter of seconds. He finally reached his destination, just before the sun was about to set. He put him books down, and went to ring the extra moisture from the rags from earlier that day. All of them were freezing and damp. Kenny sighed as he found a place to hang them, and started thinking.

_"Of all people, why me? Why am I the one with the bruises? The one with the old orange parka? The one without...support?"_The last word got more tears to appear in his eyes. He could still live like this, but he just wanted someone with him. Maybe then he'd have a reason to live.

As he hung up his last blanket, someone tapped his shoulder. Kenny jumped in the air, and the mystery person backed up a little.

"Oh man, sorry dude," he spoke. Kenny turned around to see a teenager standing there. He had on a green hat that covered his ears, and green mittens to match. His jacket was orange and his pants were a navy blue. Kenny's breath was taken away in an instant.

"It's okay," Kenny said, still breath taken. "Uh, can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if you needed help or something. You're all alone in an alley, after all," the green hatted teen explained. "And I'm Kyle, by the way."

"I'm Kenny," he said, outstretching his hand. Kyle shook it, and Kenny was instantly distracted from the heart of his hand. Kyle seemed to noticed and lightly chuckled.

"Cold?" he asked. Kenny blushed, and shook his head yes. "Well then, why don't you just go home, instead of this dark alley?" Kyle questioned.

Kenny's cheeks flamed more from embarrassment as he explain that this was his home. Kyle's face fell and his heart shattered quite a bit at hearing the news.

"Then come with me," Kyle offered. "We have a guest room."

Kenny's ears perked up at the offer. He accepted the offer, then went to retrieve his books. He didn't know it yet, but he was accepting a brand new life.


	2. Chapter 2

The warm embrace from Kyle's house enveloped Kenny immediately. It was like school, except no one was pushing him or making him feel like shit. He could get used to this feeling. There was a staircase to the right and the kitchen straight ahead.

"Here, let's go upstairs before they hear that I'm home," Kyle told Kenny in a whisper. Kenny obeyed as he slowly started to ascend the staircase. Because of living on the streets for six years, his strength had decreased by a lot. Kyle was near the top of the stairs, while Kenny was barely at the middle.

"Need help?" Kyle offered. Kenny nodded, clutching to the handrail for dear life. Kyle skipped down to retrieve his new friend. He took Kenny's arm and draped it over his shoulder, letting Kenny's weight balance on his own. Kyle flinched a little when Kenny's arm hit his shoulder, but shook it off as he saw Kenny's smile grow. _Wow, that kid can really smile__..._

They reached the top and made their way into Kyle's room for the time being. Inside were a few posters and a single, messy bed. Clothes scattered over the floor and music was also found throughout the place. Kyle kicked stuff to the side so that Kenny could actually walk.

"Sorry for the mess, I typically don't have people over," the junior explained. Kenny said it was okay, and placed himself down on the bed. "Nice bed."

"Thanks."

The two sat in an awkward silence, not knowing how to break the ice. In the matter of 20 minutes, Kyle had met someone, and taken him into his hospitality. He had never done anything like this - and he wasn't quite sure with how he would break the news to his family of three.

Kenny was nervous too. _"Okay__...__so I'm in a stranger's house__...__he could easily hurt me__...__why on Earth did I take this opportunity?"_ he thought to himself. At that same moment, Kyle had moved to take his jacket off, revealing a baby blue t-shirt, showing off his muscular arms. Kenny couldn't help staring. _Damn__...__those arms__...__but what are those marks on there?  
><em>  
>Kyle turned back around and smiled at seeing Kenny. "You go to South Park High, right?" Kyle asked, throwing his jacket to the ground.<p>

"Yeah, sophomore," Kenny replied, playing with his hoodie strings. He felt ashamed to have to show his dirty, long blond hair, but the house was so warm, he needed to. Kyle took off his hat as well, revealing poofy, red hair that fit him well. "That's cool. I'm a junior, by the way. I'm pretty sure I've seen you around," Kyle responded, running his fingers through his afro. "You always wear that parka, right?"

"Yeah, only thing I really own..." Kenny whispered, instantly ashamed. Without hesitating for a thousandth of a second, Kyle moved to his closet, looking for something for the younger to wear. He found an old hoodie he picked up one night from the thrift store that ended up being ridiculously oversized. He never wore it, so it was the perfect thing for Kenny to wear. Underneath some piles of clothes in the closet was also an unworn pair of black and grey plaid pajama pants, also from the thrift store. Kyle picked them up and turned to give them to Kenny.

"Here, you could really use it," Kyle said, handing the clothing to Kenny. "If you want, you can take a shower while I eat with my parents."

"That'd be great." Kenny smiled, accepting the new cloth. "I'd hate to sound selfish or anything, but do you mind if I had something to eat too?"

"Yeah, totally. I'll bring something upstairs for you, for after your shower," Kyle explained.

"Okay. Uh, where's the showering area place?" Kenny stumbled to get the words out of his mouth. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the marks on Kyle's arms.

"Down the hall and to the left. When you're done you can just come back in here, okay?" Kyle needed to make sure his parents didn't know about Kenny staying. At least not yet.

"Totally. And Kyle? Thank you so much. I can never be more thankful." Kenny felt yet another blush creep up on him, causing his eye contact to fall to the floor.

"It's not a problem. Now, I have to go eat, I'll see you in a bit."

* * *

><p><strong>Kyle's POV<strong>

_Shit,_ I thought._ Shit, shit, shit__.__ What the fuck was I thinking? My parents are gonna fucking kill me__..._

The staircase instantly felt a million miles down. I held the handrail as I descended to reach the dining room_.__ Maybe they won't notice__.__ I'll get him out of here, and then bring him back after school__.__ That'd work__...__that'd work__..._

My brain was killing me by the time I reached the bottom. Once I was in the dining room, I realized I was the first one there. As I exhaled and relaxed a small bit, Mom came walking in. She was a heavy set woman with big red hair, just like me. Her blue sweater was buttoned in a few spots, and her purple skirt actually looked new. I couldn't remember when she last had gotten one. _Yes__..._ I thought. _Distraction time__..._

"Hey Mom," I spoke, cheer lightly tinting my voice. "Is that a new skirt?"

"No, what are you blind?" she snapped. "Do we have to get you glasses now? We aren't _made__.__ of__.__**money!**_ She slammed her fists down on the table, making the entire room vibrate. A single plate fell, and smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. "Kyle Broflovski! Clean that up _now!"_

I sighed as I found the dust pan in its usual spot. When I kneeled down, pieces of glass found their way past my sweatpants and into my knees. I was about to cry out, but then Dad and Ike walked in. Dad seemed to stumble as he walked and Ike was practically walking for him.

"K-Kyle? What happened this time?" Dad boomed, sobering up just a little. His voice was probably heard by all of South Park. "I hope you get glass in your knees," he wished as he sat down at the table.

"Way ahead of you, father," I muttered as the glass moved into the pan. "What did you say? Are you back talking again?" he questioned, moving towards me.

"No, no, I wasn't, I wasn't!" I instantly said to the elder. It was too late, though, as his hand hit my arm yet again. The smacks came in rapid succession and I could feel the bruises slowly appearing. He switched from my arms to my stomach and face, and I could feel warm liquid oozing out. I couldn't defend myself; by this point, I was far too weak. Even after working out some to gain some muscle, he could still kick my ass any day. He finally stopped, and blood started staining the carpet.

"Oh, so now you have the nerve to bleed on the carpet?" Mom exploded. "Just get the fuck out of this room!"

I crawled to the stairs to get a grip before standing. I made my way back to my bedroom, where Kenny was sitting.

* * *

><p><strong>Kenny's POV<strong>

I never had a shower quite like the one that I had at Kyle's.

Perhaps it was the time I didn't have a shower that made this shower especially awesome. Either way, the water felt amazing on my skin. To be clean is potentially the greatest feeling in the entire world.

After toweling excess water from my hair and body, I pulled on the hoodie Kyle has given me. The inside was lined with warm, fluffy stuff, and it made me wonder how I lived without it. The pajama pants were just as comfortable, maybe even more so. "_Whoever had me and Kyle cross paths, thank you so fucking much"_ I thought as I made my way back down the hallway into Kyle's room.

Once I was back inside Kyle's room, I decided to clean up, just a little bit. First, I made his bed, pulling off the sheets and the clutter on top to the floor. I stopped to notice that his music sense seemed eerily dark for someone like him. Of course, who was I to be able to tell who he was? I had only known him for a half hour, tops. Still, though, it didn't seem like him. Either way, those made their way back on the bed once the sheets were organized.

Then I piled the clothes into one pile and the rest in another. With one tee shirt, I couldn't help but see some irregular red splotches on it. _"Marker? Ketchup? __...__blood?" _I thought, praying it was one of the first two. I put that shirt aside, to ask Kyle about it.

The other belongings ranged from papers from school to more music to random books. His school grades were outstanding – 100% on almost everyone. On one of them though – a 99% - the red splotches returned. More confusion clouded my mind when I saw it. I placed it on top of the tee shirt, my "Ask Kyle about this" pile. His music still seemed dark, so I put one of the Linkin Park CD's in the mountain of questionable items. The books were potentially the most questionable – many books on depression and suicide. But, then again, there were several joke paperbacks and humor novels as well. The two contradicted each other so well – I needed to sit and think.

Then, Kyle crawled in.

And he was crying.

And my heart shattered into a million minute pieces.

* * *

><p>"Kyle?" Kenny questioned uncertainly as he saw his new friend crawl in. "Kyle, wh-what happened?" Kenny's voice clogged up, and tears threatened to fall. Kenny raced over to where Kyle was and got him over to lie on the bed.<p>

Kyle had forgotten about Kenny, and immediately tried to stop crying. "Uh, well, er- I fell down the stairs?" Kyle sputtered out quickly, hoping Kenny would buy it.

"You don't get that hurt from a few measly stairs, even I know that, and I don't get 99% on math tests," Kenny argued, holding the paper in front of Kyle's face. Kyle's face twisted into fear as memories from that day came back.

"_Kyle? How did you do on that math test?"_

_Kyle hesitantly pulled the paper from his bookbag, the one with a big red 99 on it__.__ He had missed one of the true or false questions, causing him to miss the chance at a perfect score__._

_He handed the paper to his mother, who instantly freaked__._

"_How dare you! We told you to get a 100 on this! This is simple shit!" Kyle's mother took the piece of paper and angled it against Kyle's arm__.__ She quickly sliced his arm, causing the world's biggest paper cut__.__ Kyle screamed in pure pain, as his mother continued yelling__._

"_I'm not going to raise an idiot!"_

Kyle started crying from the memory, and Kenny's heart sunk even more.

"Are...things okay between you and your parents?" Kenny asked, worried he was asking too personal a question. More tears flew out of Kyle's face, and Kenny knew he should probably stop the bleeding coming from his friend's wounds. He grabbed the tee shirt from his "Ask Kyle" pile and lightly pressed it against one of the bloodiest cuts; one on his arm.

"Hey, is that my shirt?" Kyle questioned. Kenny nodded.

"There were some red spots on it already that seemed out of place," he explained. "Did...did something...what happened?"

Kyle opened his mouth to explain, but right then, his father opened the door.

"Kyle I just wanted t- who the fuck are you?" Kyle's dad screeched, pointing at Kenny. Kenny sat there like a deer in headlights, as did Kyle.

"Kyle! Answer me, you prick!" his dad yelled at him, picking up a nearby book. He threw it at Kyle, hitting him square in the face.

"Kenny, run! Take what you can and run!" Kyle pleaded as more blood and tears starting to seep out of his face. Kenny grabbed the CD and some of the books and took for the window. It pushed open easily and he threw the stuff out before gripping the tree branch that was right there. He looked back once to see his friend be beaten by his own father. As his heart got caught in his throat, he got down from the tree, collected the belongings, and headed back to his alleyway.

It was the only time Kenny felt true sadness.


	3. Chapter 3

**~Kenny POV~**

Guilt is the worse feeling. Ever.

My mind battled the question of "Why didn't you help him?" all the way back. Eventually, I just stopped thinking of it, as best I could. What else could one do? My wet hair stuck to the inside of Kyle's hoodie, and my bangs were starting to freeze. With my free hand, I tucked them away. My other hand still held a random bundle of papers and books from Kyle's room. The event that happened still seemed eerily unreal - like a nightmare.

Rain started trickling out from the clouds as I arrived back "home". Thankfully, my canopy haven was still intact, as if I never left. The pile of Kyle's stuff found their way underneath, where my own books typically stayed. _"Fuck..."_ I thought, as I realized my schoolbooks were still at Kyle's. _"Oh well, not like they're that important."_

It was then I realized it was Friday night. The streetlights illuminated the alley a little, enough for reading light. From a distance, I heard the church clock chime for 10 PM. _"Not too late...nothing better to do..."_I thought as I picked up one of the notebooks from Kyle's pile. My back settled against the brick as I opened it to read.

It was a journal.

His journal.

The first of the entries started about a year and a half ago, and ended just yesterday.

_3-20-10  
>Journal~<br>Dad came home drunk. Again. What a surprise - why do I keep expecting him to come home sober? Why do I keep waiting for the man who would be home before me, and pick me up and swing me around, like an airplane? Sure, I'm 15 years old now, but hey, the whole "getting home before me" idea seems wonderful._

_3-21-10_  
><em>Journal~<em>  
><em>Dad's drunk, but not as drunk as usual. I feel like throwing a fucking party. But who would come? No one, because all my "friends" left me for the drug crowd. I couldn't get into that, after when Jora almost OD'd. I can't believe I'm still with her, after all those drugs...it's a funny thing – love. It gives you the okay to risk your life for people you've grown fond of. Sometimes, I want to leave her. But then again, maybe I can change Jora. Maybe I can change her life.<em>

I smiled at Kyle's confidence. But who was Jora? I feel like I've heard her name in the hallways before, but I couldn't be certain. The dates shifted a little, fast forwarding about a month.

_4-24-10  
>Journal~<br>She's pregnant. Jora's fucking pregnant. I'm so scared, mainly for the kid. Well, plus, with my family. And the fact that Jora's about to turn 17. And that she's still doing meth. And that when my parents find out I'm basically gonna die. And...and dear god, what's going to happen? I...I...I...  
>Sorry, I ended up passing out. It's apparently 12:16 AM, 5 hours after I last remember being awake and aware. Thanks, family. But either way, what do we do? We're too young. Oh god, this was such a mistake...<em>

_4-26-10_  
><em>Journal~<em>  
><em>I told them...I actually told them. Jora, me and them were all in the same room, and we said it simultaneously. My mother started screaming, and my dad instantly started wailing on me. I can't feel my face. Like honestly, I don't know even if my nose is still intact. It's a petrifying feeling, but not like what my parents wanted Jora to do. Yeah, they wanted her to abort our child. Jora instantly denied. I did too, but now, I dunno. Don't get me wrong, being a father is already a fuzzy feeling. But is it right to bring a child into a home like mine?<em>

My heart stopped. I knew who she was now - she was a senior the last I heard of her. I heard of her being pregnant, but Kyle was the dad?

_6-9-10  
>Journal~<br>It's a boy! Jora found out today that she's expecting our little guy. I told my parents and both yelled at me, yet again, but neither of them hit me! I can't remember the last time I was this happy!  
><em>  
>You know how utterly depressing someone's life is when they're a sophomore in high school, expecting a child, and having their parents yell at them, and having them call it an amazing day. My heart restarted and shattered for the millionth time in a minute.<p>

_6-10-10  
>Journal~<br>We're naming our child Zackary. It's a Hebrew name, since we're both Jewish. Plus, it's a pretty name. With every passing day, I get more and more excited. I'm just worried about Jora. She still does the drugs sometimes. I'm so worried for our child. I can't even begin to tap into that kind of mentality if I lost the baby because of them..._

_6-16-10_  
><em>Journal~<em>  
><em>Jora and I fought today. Her hormones are fucked due to Zackary, and she lost it over a jar of Nutella. I apparently got it to her a second too late because once I arrived with the spread, she flipped, saying how the stuff would make her nauseous. I had to sneak out and pretty much risk my life for the stuff, and you're the one saying it's gonna<em>_ make you sick? Whatever. I left her with the food and came back home,__ before the parents found me missing. It worked, thankfully, and now I get to sit back and chill before she calls, bitching for something else.__ I also caught her doing more meth, which made my insides boil over. We fought over that too. She threatened to kill herself, which made me the apologizer, taking in all the blame. She's fine now, and I took away all the drugs._  
><em>I...I miss my old life...before I met her...<em>

How could someone like Kyle have to be stuck in such a situation? The dates skipped again, to about a month before a potential due date. The paper felt thin and fragile, as if it had been wet.

_11-11-10  
>Journal~<br>My 11:11 wish on 11/11 was that my family would live.  
>Jora overdosed early this morning. She got more drugs and she took so fucking many...<br>She's in the hospital now, on watch. They said they'll have to do an emergency C section for Zackary. He has high chances of making it. He's only a month away, after all. But still...what if the drugs affected him? Okay, we both know they did, but how bad? What if he was severely deformed? Oh god...what if he has mental difficulties? We can't afford anything like this...shit..._

_11-11-10_  
><em>Journal~<em>  
><em>I found this song that I want to remember. It's called "Walking Dead".<em>

_"In the chill of the night_  
><em>I can feel my heart racing<em>  
><em>As I run towards the light<em>  
><em>that seems so far away<em>  
><em>Wondering forever<em>  
><em>In the darkest of shadows<em>  
><em>Wondering if I will ever see you again"<em>

_"Digging in the dirt_  
><em>I can feel you getting closer<em>  
><em>Steadying my hands through the blistering pain<em>  
><em>Anxiously awaiting for the earth to reveal you<em>  
><em>Wondering if I will ever see you again"<em>

_You know that feeling of someone understanding you? I got that for the first time with this song. I feel like my mind is running towards that light that seems so far away. And it wonders - will I see Jora again? Will I meet my son? Oh, oh please let me...please..._

_11-11-10_  
><em>Journal~<em>  
><em>She died.<em>  
><em>Jora's gone.<em>  
><em>The drugs overtook her body and took her about an hour ago. She passed while on the operating table for Zackary. The doctors were so distracted by that they forgot about the little one. He...I can't even say it. Can you just put two and two together for me? I told the parents about them and they blamed me. Even Ike did, when he's barely been in this mess. Dad hit me again, and Mom threw stuff. I still think my leg is bleeding, but it just doesn't hurt anymore. My heart hurts worse, knowing my little family is gone...<em>  
><em>I...I can't stop...crying...<em>

_I want to die...to be with them..._

I can't stop crying either. I can't imagine if I was in Kyle's position. If I was simply 15 years old and having to deal with this shit.

For the first time ever, I loved my living conditions.

_11-18-10  
>Journal~<br>There was a memorial service today for the two. Did I go? Of course not. Why? My parents boarded up my window and door, to prevent me from going out. So, I'm stuck here. I can't say I hate them - I don't know if I would want to go. In a way, my wishes were granted. Jora is finally at peace, as is little Zackary. They're in a pain free place,  
>one I sometimes wish I was at. But I still want them home, safe, in my arms. I want to see what my son looked like. I bet he had my red hair, and her deep blue eyes. I bet he was beautiful...<em>

The rain wasn't letting up, sending down more water with each passing minute. I stood quickly to send the pooling water off the covering above my head, so it wouldn't cave in. To have this notebook ruined wouldn't look good. As I settled back into my nest, the dates skipped again.

_3-20-11  
>Journal~<br>Zackary would be 4 months and 9 days old today. I count his age everyday, writing it on the top of my hand in memory. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that I lost a child, when I'm only 16 years old..._

_3-22-11_  
><em>Journal~<em>  
><em>Mom asked me today why I had "4mo 11days" written on my hand. I told her it was for Zackary, and that's how old he would be today. I smiled a little, like he wasn't dead - just away, and I did this anyways. She wasn't happy, but when is she? She screamed at me, and took my hand to scrub off the ink. Long story short, hot water gets pen off and leaves<em>_ your hand looking like an apple. Needless to say, I'm not writing his age anymore. _

_I'll paint it in my mind instead._

He's only 16...this couldn't be real. No, no this was just a story. People write stories like this. With journal entries and everything. I told myself to congratulate him on his writing ability the next time I saw him. It's just a story. Just a story...

The dates skipped to about two days ago - October 11, 2011.

_10-11-11  
>Journal~<br>It's Zackary's 11 month birthday today. In a month, he'd be a year. I wonder what he'd be like. I bet he'd like playing with little action figures. Or maybe painting. Maybe he'd be unpredictable - and he'd like something new everyday. I'd give anything to simply see him. To see of he did in fact have my hair or her eyes. The combination would've been so, so gorgeous..._

10-12-11  
>Journal~<br>I brought home a math test today. I got a 99 on it. I gave it to Mom when she asked, like I do with every other test. She took one look and flipped. "

_How dare you! We told you to get a 100 on this! This is simple shit!" she screamed, her face turning the same shade of red as her hair. She took the test and angled it against my arm, slicing the skin ever so swiftly. Blood instantly erupted out as I yelled in pain. _"_I'm not going to raise an idiot!"_

_You know, if I still had Jora and Zackary, I'd be happier. Yes, I'm just a junior, but I'd be away from this hell of a family. I'd be with people I cared about – my own flesh & blood. _

_Fuck this shit. Ever since I lost my son and girlfriend, I've been miserable._

_I miss him too much._

_Tomorrow, this ends._

_Tomorrow, I die. _

The last three words are nothing more than pure blur-blobs though my tear filled eyes. They were streaming down my face as fast as the rain comes out of the sky. I simply stop, and curl into myself and sob. It wasn't just a story. This was his life. Every word, every emotion was embedded in his mind; these thoughts haunted him daily. And he was gonna kill himself today. Did I stop him? Or...oh god, what if he's gone now? What if after I left he ended it? Oh god, no. No, I can't lose him. No...

After sometime had passed, I looked up and he was there. Kyle was standing in front of my sitting form. His orange and green jacket looked cold and uncomfortable on his frame. His face was bleeding and in his arms were...my schoolbooks. With ease, he placed them down next to me, wordlessly. His face held confusion, then shock when he saw I was reading his journal. His deep green eyes held fear, and shone brilliantly in the dark night. I pulled him down into a hug, and both of us exploded into tears, holding each other, being each others savior.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello lovely readers. I finally figured out the formatting. :D The song lyrics are from a song called "Walking Dead" (as you now know) by Z-Trip (feat. Chester Bennington) Please review, since I only have about three x) Thank you! :)**


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